Anxiety of the Maker

  I often come up against "seeing things through"

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My apartment is covered in half-finished projects and half-read books. 

I have yet to keep a job for over a year.    

I am a level II Reiki practioner.  

I am a level I Qoya Instructor, but I have yet to teach a class.  

I have a massage therapy license, but I practice infrequently.  

I received a bachelor's degree in multi-lingual studies, becoming a proficient speaker of Spanish, French, and Italian, but I've never held a job that applies any of them.   

I know a little bit about a lot of different things.  

As a "jack-of-all-trades, master-of-none,"  Its hard to feel really good at anything.

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Time, for me, always seems to be the issue. 

If I devote all of my time to one thing, I sacrifice other passions, but by choosing to keep all the balls in the air, I've been sacrificing something else. 

This moon cycle I turned 27.  

I see others my age reaching new pinnacles in their pursuits and careers, achievements they have diligently earned through carrying one thing from start to finish for years at a time.  

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For now, I am a barista, and I feel the anxiety of reaching a place in my life where it seems like I should have already started to build something solid for myself.

But it doesn't outweigh the Anxiety of the Maker; 

That feeling like life is slipping away into meaninglessness if creations aren't flowing from my hands.  

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I chose my job because it allows me the flexibility of schedule and mental space to Make.

Life has little purpose for me if I am not communing in this way, but I still need to eat, to pay my bills, and I desire to reach a place where I am not just surviving paycheck to paycheck.  

I'm working on bringing my monetary path and how I feel I must live to be a physically, emotionally, and spiritually healthy human being into alignment.

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This moon cycle, I ran into my own lacks, along with a growing desire to tie up loose ends.  

I desired to clear a path to guide my creativity and my adulthood towards one another.

A half-finished pile of braided rope loomed, a personal mountain, crowding a corner of my little studio apartment.  

I felt the weight of the unfinished paintings, stacked tidily on my desk, like a pile bricks on my chest.  

In creating halves of things, I have created obstacles for myself.  

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With all of these projects circulating in my head I couldn't think straight.

 I worked to choreograph an ending to the dance I was doing with them.  If I could just bring the song to a close, I thought, they would let me out of the revolving door.  

I could step back into the crossroads, see clear pathways, and decide from there how to walk the line of harmony without being pulled out of tune by projects gone rouge, heckled by the discordant voices of "I can't",  "I haven't", and "I never will."

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It's been 9 months since I first began cutting fabric for this rug, and I felt into the medicine of an obstruction turned life tool.  

Rather than dwell on the unfinished paintings still sitting on my desk this new moon, I'm  allowing my self space to feel my accomplishment.

I'll step into the labyrinth, allowing the dance to be the way through.

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